Message-ID: <41034asstr$1046092203@assm.asstr-mirror.org> X-AntiAbuse: This header was added to track abuse, please include it with any abuse report X-AntiAbuse: ID = 948ab4c8608b1a0ba1fa7e3decf9f577 Reply-To: katzmarek@excite.com From: "don james" Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-Original-Message-ID: <20030224091128.43861BF6C@xmxpita.excite.com> X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Mon, 24 Feb 2003 04:11:28 -0500 (EST) Subject: {ASSM} The Donor (Part 3) By Katzmarek (MF, Rom) Date: Mon, 24 Feb 2003 08:10:03 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: IceAltar, RuiJorge _______________________________________________ Join Excite! - http://www.excite.com The most personalized portal on the Web! <1st attachment, "The Donor 3.doc" begin> The Donor 3 By Katzmarek This is entirely a work of fiction and to my knowledge original. If I have plagiarised any part it is accidental and the author would appreciate the pointing out of the error of his ways. Please! I am not the British Intelligence Establishment. It is written as a work of erotic fiction so, obviously, if you have an issue with that then, www.cartoonnetwork.com was probably what you were looking for, young lad. HIGHER SALARIES COMMISSION Jonathon read, INCOMES OF OUR TOP CORPORATE EXECUTIVES. Jonathon scanned down the screen until his eyes settled on, NATIONAL TELECOMMUNICATIONS CORPORATION. Chief Executive, Joanne Van Wettering..................$1,000,000+ pa 'Mary mother of God,' he thought, 'plus what?' It had been three weeks since Joanne had stormed out of his flat, again, and he'd not heard from her since. At times he thought about using her phone numbers he knew but decided against it. Jonathon began to take walks past her house. He knew he was playing a potentially dangerous game. They had laws about this sort of behaviour but he was sure Joanne wouldn't call the police. He had just turned her corner, on the third day, when he became aware of a car behind him, slowing down. He kept walking until a toot from the car's horn caused him to stop. Turning he saw a white BMW, stopped, but the sunlight reflected in the windscreen obscured the driver's face. It moved opposite him and he saw it was Joanne. "Are you stalking me?" she said, lowering the window. "No, I was just passing," Jonathon replied. "Oh sure, and yesterday? You were just passing again?" "Yes." "I don't have the energy to chase away lost little puppies. Can you do me a favour and go home?" "If you really want, I don't want to bother you." "Of course you do... Look, get in for a moment," she said. Jonathon slipped into the passenger seat. Joanne started the car moving with a squeal and headed for the main road. "I'll be honest with you Jonathon," Joanne began. "I have kept my private life out of the press for 10 years. Yesterday, I came close to calling the police but I didn't want the hassle of laying a charge. If the papers got hold of the story, and start digging then I might end up with a big mess on my hands. I don't need the distraction, Jonathon. So I'm asking you to go home, forget you ever met me, and sleep with your cat." "What private life Joanne"? Joanne spun the car into the park gate and brought it to a screeching halt. "You have some nerve, you know. What gives you the right to talk to me that way," she bristled. "You can talk! You've used nothing but sarcasm and put-downs since we met." "We didn't 'meet'. I hired you. Unsuccessfully too." She said. "And came to dinner..." "To get you to stop calling me. YOU thought you could waltz me off to bed." "No, I thought I could 'massage' you off to bed. I don'twaltz." Joanne sighed in exasperation. "I should have let you. Perhaps it would have been a lot less trouble." "There's still time?" "I was joking, fool!" "I'm not," replied Jonathon. "Yes, that's a problem," she said starting the car. "C'mon," she said, "At least I owe you a dinner." They traveled in silence to an up-market local restaurant. Joanne rang ahead to book a table. "Somewhere discrete." "Hmm romantic!" Jonathon said. "So I won't be noticed, actually. If any person asks your name, don't give it and tell the restaurant, ok?" "I'm the 'mystery man', ok." Joanne sighed again and said, "Just keep your mouth shut." They were seated at the back of the restaurant, but off to the side of the kitchens where it was quite dark. "Nice food," said Jonathon. "It should be," replied Joanne, "at these prices. Jonathon, that music, what CD was it? "Limbo, Throwing Muses, do you want me to get you a copy?" "I'll find it, thanks." "I have lot's of others you'd probably like." "Don't bother. Just that one, it sort of grows on you." "Can I pay a compliment?" Jonathon asked. "No! This is not a date. And stop staring at me, I told you before." "Question!" "What?" "Have you had many boyfriends?" "None of your business." "I'm picking no. Maybe... one or two. A childhood one perhaps then... someone who really hurt you, a real love." "Have you finished? What are you? Pushing 40 maybe? Never married? Have you been leaving hearts on the side of the road or is there something more, some dark side to your nature. Is there a little bit of horror in your past, Jonathon? Jonathon paused, deep in thought. "Um, horror no," he said, "I screw up..." "Why is that, Jonathon? People screw up for a reason. Usually because they never wanted to do it in the first place, and weren't honest enough with themselves." "Honest? Maybe..." "I'll tell you Jonathon. You are afraid of life, afraid of success. You set yourself goals you'll never reach so life can tell you what a useless lump of shit you are. Then what happens, Jonathon?" "Um, No." "Mummy comes along and hugs you and tells you everything is alright, except! There's no mummy anymore, or maybe she never did that anyway and you're still looking for the hugs..." "Ok, ok... Lay off... Maybe you're right in everything you say...I don't know..." "Here's the deal, Jonathon. We leave the psychoanalysis to Freud shall we?" Jonathon was lost in thought for a moment. Eventually he looked up and said, "You know? Your eyes really sparkle when you get angry..." "What? Oh for God's sa..." Said Joanne, burying her head in her hands. She started shaking and Jonathon's concern began to grow. "Joanne?... Joanne?... Are you alright?" Eventually, Joanne took away her hands to grab a tissue. She then dabbed her eyes. "Are you crying, was it something I said." Jonathon was confused. She sucked in her breath and looked straight ahead. "I'm not crying... I'm laughing... 'Sparkle' Oh ha ha..." And she buried her head again. Later, while walking back to the car Joanne said, "I'll take you home but I'm not coming in." "Ok." "And don't try to slobber all over me, Ok?" "Ok." "Or 'sparkle' wont be the word. Think Mt St Helens on a bad day." "Mt St Helens, got it." On the way to Jonathon's house, Joanne said, "You're the strangest person I have ever come across." "Thank you, I think." "Totally impossible..." "Impossible..." "I should take you down the coast and leave you by the side of the road." They pulled up outside Jonathon's, Joanne turned off the engine. As Jonathon unlocked his front door Joanne stood behind him. "Are you coming in after all?" He asked. "Just making sure you don't run after the car when I leave." Joanne followed him inside. She walked over to his CD collection. It was now in some order, alphabetically. "Where is she... here. Good grief Jonathon you obsess around one artist." "How so?" "There's a whole shelf of Kristin Hersh." "I like the music." "I guess!" Jonathon came up behind her and lightly put his hands on her waist. "Don't," she said. But she didn't move away. "Question," he said. "What?" Her voice was a little softer now. "You didn't come in here to look at my CD's." "That's a statement." "So what did you come in for"? "Curious." "About?" "Curiosity." "Huh? 'Curious about curiosity'?" "Yes." "Whose curiosity are you curious about?" "Mine... and yours." "Yours?" "Do you need to repeat everything I say?" Jonathon's arms now circled her waist. Joanne was around the same height that meant his chin was practically resting on her shoulder. "You smell..." he started to say. "Don't! Don't try and sweet-talk me. You are too clumsy at it." "Ok." "Just put this on the stereo and we'll sit down over there, ok?" She said, indicating the sofa. They sat down on the sofa. Joanne accepted Jonathon's arm around her neck. He was acutely aware of her warm leg, pressed against his. "Jonathon? If I hadn't had a few wines I wouldn't be here at all, understand?" "Yes." "I'm not a cold, unfeeling bitch, you know?" "No." "Shut up! You don't need to answer." Jonathon nodded his head. Joanne slumped down so her head was resting on Jonathon's shoulder. "I didn't have the best of childhood's. Dad was, well, an alcoholic and mum was pretty much inaccessible to us kids. Keep quiet, please Jonathon. It's hard enough to talk like this, without your sympathy..." She took a breath. "I learned to rely on myself from pretty early on. Studying kept me out of the way, too. I never expected my parents to be there at graduation and I was never disappointed." "Dad began to show interest in me when I was about 7. Don't, say a word, Jonathon. I've never told this to anyone in my life, not even my mother. If you breathe a word Jonathon that breath will be your last. I mean it." "Ok," Jonathon croaked. "Dad began to touch me. In the bath, first and then he started coming into my bedroom. He was usually drunk. Have you got a tissue?" "Sleeve?" "That will do," Joanne dabbed her eyes on Jonathon's sleeve. "Funny. At first I liked the attention. He was always gentle, you know? I'd even miss it when he never came in for a few days. Later I became aware that he shouldn't be doing those things to me and it made me angry. And guilty too, I think. Guilty because I liked it... he never hurt me... never forced himself. I know some victims of incest and abuse were physically injured and stuff. But it wasn't with me." "I've taped every Oprah show so, Jonathon, don't give me the psychobabble, please. Just understand why I'm the way I am." "Ok, um, I don't know what to say." "Good. Much better then your usual crap." "Doesn't answer the question though as to why you want a child," Jonathon said. "No. Because the answer's too simple, I'm 37, I want a baby, end of story." Joanne rearranged herself so her head was resting in Jonathon's lap. She allowed Jonathon to stroke her face. She lifted her head as he untied her hair, then shook it free as she settled again. "You know? Your hands feel pretty nice when you get used to them." "Thanks. You're pretty nice yourself." "No I'm not. You don't need to answer every compliment." "Can I say anything?" "Only if you're real." "May I kiss you?" Jonathon asked. "Let me give you a bit of free advice. Sometimes it's better if you're not so polite." Cradling her head, Jonathon bent down and kissed her. A light exploratory brush before joining his lips to hers. Jonathon took his time. He didn't want to break the mood this time. Everything appeared to be going his way at last and he was anxious not to spoil it. So he was nervous when he finally moved his hand down from caressing her hair to her shoulder, then down her arm. Joanne reached up and held his head, increasing the pressure of their kissing. Jonathon moved his hand to her side, stroking the silken fabric of her expensive blouse. "Jonathon? Let me up?" "What's the matter?" "Nothing, I just don't fancy you fumbling with my underwear." "Oh!" "Don't give me that 'sad puppy' expression. Just show me where your bedroom is." "Oh, sure." "There you are, that's brightened you up! Through here? You've picked up your socks?" Jonathon was glad that he had resumed the habit of making his bed in the morning. He thought it the ultimate in wishful thinking, but this time, all that effort was not in vain. "It's tidy! What's gotten into you, Jonathon, expecting company?" Jonathon touched her on the shoulders and turned her gently to face him. "Do you always have to have a smart remark for everything?" "Pretty much! Do you always have to be an easy mark? "Do you want help with those clothes?" "Still asking permission?" "Ok then, I want this off," Jonathon said, reaching for the top button of her blouse. By the third button Joanne had circled his waist and was lifting his T-shirt. "Jonathon?" She whispered to his face, inches from her own. "Mmm?" "Don't expect too much, ok?" "Too much what?" Jonathon whispered back. "I haven't..." He silenced her with his mouth. Between kissing they managed to shed her blouse and his T-shirt. While Joanne's hands were exploring his torso, Jonathon's were working their way towards the contents of her bra. Becoming bolder, he palmed one and felt the stiffening nipple beneath his hand. Her breasts were heavier than what he imagined. Womanly full with prominent nipples that left Jonathon's mouth dry with anticipation. Panting, Joanne sat on the bed and reached behind to undo her bra. "You'd better understand.... I don't do... oh, oh, ohs," she said "I not going to massage... your ego." "Like the strip shows you don't do..." "Just getting comfortable... I can put my bra back on...if you prefer." "No! Don't!" "Jonathon...uh... Don't... slobber...." But Joanne didn't seem to mind when Jonathon squeezed and caressed her breasts. Following his hands with his mouth and tongue. When she began to urgently rub the front of his pants she said, "You... seem to be... doing better... than last time." "You not lying... like ... your getting a... cervical smear." Giggling she tugged at his trousers, "Get them off..." Soon they began wrestling. The game? Who can undress the other first. Joanne was the winner, just, although her panties had been pulled down to her knees. "What are you doing?" she said in surprise as Jonathon pushed his head between her legs. "Stop... uh... shit!... careful!... too sensitive... uh... Jonathon!... oo." He probed her with his tongue, worked it up and down her slit and sucked on her labia. Jonathon stroked her legs and thighs. Joanne's squirming became more urgent, growing in intensity. Her breathing came in gasps. Jonathon looked at her from between her legs, in response she looked down at him. "What's wrong? Keep going," she said. Joanne's pussy glistened in arousal, her musky aroma assailed Jonathon's senses. He watched her body heave itself at him, wanting him to do more, wanting him to bring her to conclusion. He thought it was the sexiest sight he'd ever seen. Her full breasts with their rigid, shining nipples swayed on her chest. "C'mon Jonathon, please?" Shuffling forward he needed no guidance to find her entrance. Jonathon tried to pace himself as best he could. He kept his movements deliberately slow and deliberate and used every trick he could think of to delay his orgasm as long as possible. On the other hand, he used his fingers to help Joanne build towards hers. He stopped to tongue her breasts, rolled her over and massaged her bottom, and played with her tongue with his own. All the time Joanne was gasping and moaning. 'For someone, who doesn't do 'ohs' she's doing pretty well,' he thought. Her gasping built in urgency and volume. Jonathon was at the edge himself and couldn't hold back any longer. He increased his thrusting until he was hammering into her. "God, oh god..." Joanne cried, "Jonathon..." Her body stiffened, she clung to him like a steel clamp, holding him in her. Her fingernails dug into his bottom cheeks leaving them red afterwards. She emitted one long primeval groan. Jonathon blasted his seed deep into her with an intensity that was almost painful. For a moment he saw spots before his eyes. Utterly exhausted they lay locked together as Jonathon slowly wilted until discomfort caused them to change positions. Eventually Jonathon rolled off and lay beside her. "Well...proves something," she said. "What?" "I knew you... had to be... good for... something," she answered as she recovered her breath. <1st attachment end> ----- ASSM Moderation System Notice------ Notice: This post has been modified from its original format. 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